Chapter 11
The week after Kelly was like they were in their honeymoon period again.
They couldn't keep their hands off each other. Not just sexually, although there was plenty of that, more than plenty, a quantity and intensity of sex that might actually have alarmed them both if they’d not had the experience that had triggered it.
It was also simply physical, constant, as if proximity to each other had itself become a need.
Ellie found herself reaching for Becca's hand the minute they walked out of the elevator on the way to get coffee.
Becca would come up behind Ellie while she was working at the kitchen island and wrap her arms around her, resting her chin on her shoulder and just staying there, breathing, for minutes at a time.
They went to bed cuddled together and woke up the same way, and in between they talked and laughed and fucked and talked some more and it was, without question, the best week of their marriage.
The sex was insane. Not because of any particular act or technique but because of what lay beneath it…
the shared memory of Saturday night, the sensations and images they both carried with them now, not to mention the vocabulary of experience they'd built together.
Ellie would be going down on Becca and Becca would say, breathlessly, "She did this thing where she…” Ellie would try it and Becca would moan, then they'd build on it, folding Kelly's techniques into their own repertoire the way they'd promised each other they would.
Or Ellie would be on top and she'd whisper, "I watched her make you cum like this," and the words would drive something deep inside Becca, a feral intensity that left them both breathless and needing more.
Kelly's tongue trick, as promised, turned out to be simple: a change in angle and pressure that Ellie had never thought to try.
When Becca showed her, steering Ellie's head with her hands and giving clear instructions, Ellie mastered it in about thirty seconds and the orgasm it produced from Becca was so loud that they got a passive-aggressive note from their next door neighbour the next day.
They framed it and put it next to their wedding picture.
The group chat with Kelly stayed relatively active too.
She’d messaged the next day to say she’d made it safely back home to the ranch, thank you for an amazing time, and that Colt had been exactly as she thought: both smug and jealous.
Ellie replied warmly, because Becca insisted that it had to be her as the watcher not the active participant, her usual emotional intelligence that Ellie tried not to take for granted, and then once she’d replied Becca followed up with a genuine, heartfelt thank you.
The conversation settled from there into something friendly and low-key…
the odd meme, a recommendation from Kelly for a restaurant in San Antonio when Becca’s work took her there later that week.
There was a wonderful lack of anything heavy for three people who’d shared something so intense, albeit Ellie thought there was an element of all three of them keeping communications open while they let the dust settle and decided whether anything might come next.
By Friday the intensity started to normalise, not in a bad way but simply because nobody could last with the intensity they’d built for too long and the normal texture of their day-to-day lives needed to creep back in.
It was that evening, while they were cooking dinner together ahead of a night watching their latest boxset, that Becca said, "So. The hypothesis."
Ellie looked up from the onion she was chopping. "The hypothesis?"
"You said you wanted to try with someone else. See if the dynamic works beyond Kelly."
"I did say that." Ellie put the knife down and turned to face her. "You still want to?"
"I think we should. The scientist in both of us is crying out for more than one data point to draw conclusions from!”
"The scientist in me appreciates that deeply."
"Good." Becca leaned back against the counter and crossed her arms. "So how do we find someone? We got lucky with Kelly… she fell into our laps. We can't count on that happening again. I mean, we could go out to gay bars every night for the next month and not meet someone as perfect as her.”
"Apps?" Ellie suggested.
Becca raised an eyebrow. "You want to go on an app and advertise that you're looking for someone to sleep with your wife while you watch?"
Ellie laughed. “I was thinking a little bit more subtle than that. But essentially, yes."
"There are apps for this?"
"Becca, there are apps for everything. There’ll definitely be an app for this.”
***
There were, it turned out, more than enough apps for this.
After some research, firmly Ellie's domain naturally, she approached it the way she approached any problem… methodically and with far too many browser tabs open at once. They ended up settling on a platform that specifically existed to bring together couples and individuals interested in ethical non-monogamy. Initially they’d looked at some of the hookup apps but they didn’t feel quite right, despite the intent.
This one seemed to be more of a community with matchmaking features, and from what they could see and what people online said the user base seemed to be genuinely engaged with doing things responsibly.
They built a profile together that Sunday, sat on the sofa with Ellie's laptop between them.
It was a strange exercise… describing what they wanted in clinical enough terms to be clear but human enough to attract the right person.
Becca wrote most of the text, her therapist's instinct for precise yet open language coming in handy, while Ellie handled the photos (a shot of them at brunch with obligatory mimosas in hand, trying not to over-promise but also wanting not to under-promise).
They made sure it was honest, that was the most important thing to both of them. Married couple, mid-twenties, looking for a woman to be intimate with one of them while the other watches. First time using an app for this. Respectful, communicative, no pressure.
The responses were mixed but plentiful. Some were exactly what they'd hoped for: thoughtful, curious, experienced. Some, inevitably, were not. One memorable message consisted entirely of an eggplant emoji followed by a question mark, which Becca balked at but gave Ellie a fit of the giggles.
By the Monday night they'd narrowed it down to a few genuine prospects and were messaging back and forth with three women who seemed promising.
One in particular stood out, a woman called Cass.
Thirty-one, she described herself as androgynous and worked as a personal trainer.
Her photos showed someone confident and charismatic, short dark hair, angular features, a lean, muscular build that spoke to serious dedication to her physique.
She said that she was experienced with couples, she was articulate, just the right balance between flirty and serious in her messages, and explicitly stated that she understood and respected the watching dynamic.
"She's hot," Becca said, looking at Cass's profile over Ellie's shoulder when it first came up.
Her voice had an enthusiasm to it that Ellie recognised…
as if she knew she was risking sounding over enthusiastic, so was tempted to downplay it so as not to let on, but then to avoid seeming like she was downplaying it she made herself sound even more enthusiastic by accident.
Ellie tried and almost succeeded in hiding her grin when she noticed.
"She is," Ellie agreed, watching Becca scroll through the photos again. "She's also extremely your type."
Becca looked at her, feigning surprise. "What do you mean?"
"Bec, come on. Short hair, androgynous, muscular, looks like she could bench press a car? You've had a thing for that look since college. Remember that teaching assistant in your abnormal psych class? The one with the undercut? You couldn't string a sentence together around her."
Becca went bright pink. "That was... I was twenty. Everyone had a crush on her."
"You crushed on her so hard you changed your study schedule to be in the library when she was. I watched it happen."
"I was studying more. It was a difficult class."
"Sure." Ellie smiled. "And if you saw her today?” Becca did a passable impression of a goldfish as she struggled to find the words. Ellie’s smile became a grin.
“Exactly. I'm just saying… Cass is exactly the kind of woman you’d fantasise about if you were single.
That's not a bad thing. I'm just noting it. "
"Noted," Becca said, still pink. "Is it a problem?"
Ellie thought about it honestly. "I don't think so. You know I’m more into feminine types, but we’re testing the variable. If this works with someone who's the opposite of Kelly it proves the dynamic is the engine, not the specific person."
"And if it works because she's my type?"
“You admit it then?” Ellie teased.
“Yeah…”
"Then we learn that too. Let's meet her," Ellie said. "Drinks tomorrow?"
***
They met Cass at a bar on South Congress on Tuesday. Neutral territory, low stakes, just a drink to see if there was a connection. Absolutely nothing was going to happen that night, they’d made it clear and Cass had agreed.
Cass was exactly as her profile suggested, which was a good start: confident, direct, physically imposing in a way that grabbed several people’s attention when she walked through the bar.
She was wearing a fitted black t-shirt and jeans, her short hair styled like it was a statement of intent, silver rings on most of her fingers, tattoos visible on both her arms. She shook both their hands firmly, ordered a beer, and got straight to business.
"So, tell me about your dynamic," she said, leaning back in her chair and taking a long sip. "I've done this a few times with couples, but everyone's different."
Becca did most of the talking, and Ellie watched in fascination while she did it.
Becca’s energy was different from how she’d been with Kelly…
less flirtatious, more focused, almost deferential.
This wasn’t the casual chemistry with Kelly, this was contained excitement that told Ellie that Becca was attracted to Cass deeply, viscerally.
This was a type thing and Ellie could see it by how Becca’s eyes kept going to Cass’s forearms, her shoulders, her hand holding her beer.
Becca was staring, and trying not to look like she was staring, and she was failing at it.
Cass noticed it too. Ellie suspected she was used to be looked at like that, a fantasy figure for some women and indeed some men, but the way she responded was what made it work…
respectful, kind when Becca got a little flustered at one point.
And the way she held eye contact with Becca when Becca got up to go to the restroom…
Becca wasn’t the only one in their marriage to feel flustered at that point.
“And you, Ellie. You’re genuinely happy to watch?”
Ellie nodded. “Genuinely.” It felt good talking to someone who had experienced this specific dynamic before, like she could be completely honest. “I seem to enjoy watching Becca be desired. She seems to enjoy me watching. Neither of us could deal with swapping roles.” She shrugged. “Weird, huh?”
Cass shook her head and flashed a confident smile at Ellie. “Enlightened. And having the confidence to tell me honestly… I respect that.”
Ellie realised she was blushing, her own little crush forming from nowhere even though Cass wasn’t anything like her normal type. She was getting good vibes, and she could tell that Becca felt the same.
By the end of one drink that became two they'd agreed: Saturday, a hotel this time... neutral ground felt right.